


Merry Christmas, Racer

by musicalsmarvelandmore



Series: 12 Days of Sprace Christmas One-Shots [4]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character, Sick Racetrack Higgins, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28226580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalsmarvelandmore/pseuds/musicalsmarvelandmore
Summary: Race is sick on Christmas Eve and Spot is just trying his best.
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Series: 12 Days of Sprace Christmas One-Shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057091
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Merry Christmas, Racer

Spot headed upstairs as soon as he got back to lodging. He hated that he had to leave in the first place, but some things couldn’t wait.

The world had not stopped turning, which sucked. Spot needed to spend as much time as he could up there in his room, and even though he was trying his best, he was still the king of Brooklyn, and all of those boys were relying on him.

He forced his face into a more typical Spot Conlon expression, even though he really wasn’t feeling it. Some things were best to keep up for appearances. He opened the door.

Race had fallen out of bed, but he still looked up at the sound, his eyes glazed and face flushed. “Hey Spotty,” he croaked out before starting coughing.

Spot didn’t flinch, though he couldn’t keep himself from rushing over there to the boy on the floor. “Hey buddy. Whatcha doin’ on the floor?” he said, trying to keep his voice light.

If Race knew how scared and worried Spot was, then Spot was afraid that the other boy might think he was dying, that something was actually wrong. Spot needed at least one of them to still have hope.

“I fell,” Race mumbled, turning and pressing his sweat-stained face into Spot’s shirt before groaning.

“A’ight, well, up we go,” Spot said, lifting the other boy up into the bed. Race had always been scrawny, but now, it was to the extreme.

Race sighed, his face still pressed into Spot’s shirt. “I’s couldn’t find ya.”

“I told ya I had ta step out for a few, ‘member?”

Race’s head shook no in Spot’s shirt, but Spot wasn’t surprised. The boy’s fever had such a strong control over him, and honestly, Spot wasn’t sure what to do, but he was trying the best he could.

He tried not to think of all the other boys throughout his years who had gotten fevers they had never recovered from.

“It’s okay, Racer. You’s gonna be okay. How ‘bout yous drink some water, and then try to get some sleep, ‘kay?”

It was hard, prying Race’s resistant body off of him, propping the boy up on the bunk before grabbing a canteen he had brought up with him, holding it up to Race’s parched lips, urging the precious liquid to go down.

Spot wasn’t even sure how conscious his boyfriend was. It felt like more often than not, the boy just spent the whole time fading in and out, and the line between the two was practically non existent. But water was important. Eating was too, but Spot doubted that he’d be able to get Race to eat anything right now.

It probably wasn’t near enough water by the time Race pulled away, but it was still something, and for right now, Spot just had to hope that that was going to be enough.

Spot grabbed the blankets that much have tumbled off the bed along with the boy, wrapping them around Race. The boy just looked so cold and miserable, like he would never be warm again.

“Spot?” Race asked, his voice and breathing just as ragged as the other.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I’s don’t feel so good.”

Spot ignored the tears in the corner of his eyes and tried his best to keep his voice level. “I know. It’s okay. How ‘bout you take a nap, and I’ll be here when you wake up?”

“Okay,” came the small voice.

Spot was glad he wasn’t going to have to fight with Race about that this time, but it still hurt that the boy he loved was stuck so pitiful and helpless.

He sat back, watching the wretched figure on his bed. It had been a rough few days.

Spot hadn’t even known that Race had been sick at first. Sure, December was rough in New York, as it got colder and people on the streets grew more scarce, making it harder to afford rent, meaning that many boys had to go without food for far longer than they should. But only four days ago, Spot thought that everything was good, and then everything came tumbling down.

Race was supposed to come over for cards that night. It hadn’t snowed for a few days, but it looked like it might not by Christmas either, which Spot didn’t mind that much. Snow might be beautiful, but it was also deadly.

Spot had been on his way over to Sheepshead to collect the boy, to have that walk back to his lodging together, just the two of them.

It didn’t take long to find the other boy, but it never did. Wherever the other boy was, he always drew the attention of everyone else around, his very personality electric.

Spot headed over to his boyfriend, a smile on his lips, when the other boy collapsed.

The moments after that passed by in a blur and honestly, Spot still wasn’t sure how he was able to get Race back to Brooklyn lodging.

And since then, it’s been just like this, dealing with his incredibly sick boyfriend and praying that everything was going to be alright. Having to leave to deal with Brooklyn matters and wishing that every breath that passed through Race’s lips would not be his last.

“Spot?” Race asked again. “C’me here.”

Race struggled, his weak arms trying to move the blankets off of him. Spot was there in an instant, smoothing the blankets back down and shushing the other boy.

“I’s need ya,” Race rasped. “Come ‘ere.”

Spot kicked off his shoes, lying on top of the blankets next to his boyfriend, wrapping one arm around the mound of blankets. “I’m here, Race. It’s gonna be okay.”

Race coughed again. He sounded and looked absolutely miserable, but at least in this position, Spot could feel as Race’s chest expanded with each breath, to make sure that the boy was still breathing.

The other boy muttered something that Spot couldn’t make out, not just because of the volume, but also because he was pretty sure it was in Italian. He had been switching between languages, the Italian coming out when he was too delirious to know where and when he was. Spot knew better than to even mention it in Race’s more lucid moments.

“Good night, Race.”

“Wait!” Race said, jerking upright even as Spot tried to pull him back down to the mattress. “What time is it?”

“Christ, Racer. I’s dunno. Close ta midnight. Go ta sleep I’s don’t need yous wakin’ up half o’ lodgin’.”

“What day is it?”

“‘Spose it must be Christmas now. You’s been in and out of it. Don’t worry if ya lost a day or two in there.”

“Oh,” Race said, and if Spot wasn’t so petrified at how sick his boyfriend was, Spot would have found his tone of voice hilarious. “Yous present is in ‘Hattan.”

“It’s okay, babe, I promise. You can give it ta me when you get better. Right now, I just need ya to focus on getting better. Your throat sounds like shit.”

Race snorted at that. “I know. Spot, I don’t feel so good.”

“I know, buddy. Go ta sleep now, okay?”

“Merry Christmas.”

And with that, Race was finally quiet, even though his breathing still sounded more like a rasp with the congestion in his throat.

Spot waited until he was sure that the other boy was asleep, or at least really close to it. He pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Racer,” Spot said, as his voice broke and the boy buried his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with silent sobs.

**Author's Note:**

> It actually surprised me that this is my first sad Christmas one-shot lol. About time. I know I'm a little behind, but it should work out. (fingers crossed)


End file.
